They
by Athena de la Luz
Summary: Songfic based on Yami No Matsuei that centers on Hisoka's past. Rating because of MurakiHisoka scene. My first songfic R&R PLZ!


The full moon shimmered through his silver hair as the wind ruffled through it. His remarkably clean glasses reflected the dance between the stars and the moon. His white coat hung loosely around the young doctor Muraki's frame, as a halo would have fitted around an angel's head. Though the doctor smiled pleasantly at all the beauty of the night around him, his smiled soon progressed into an almost animal expression of bloodlust. He would have his blood tonight— and yes, there would be much blood.

No matter what he would have to do—even if the Devil gasped in horror as he looked upon him from the depths of Hell.

_Who made up all the rules?  
We follow them like fools  
Believe them to be true  
Don't care to think them through_

Hisoka walked along the river, unable to sleep, though his bed had been warm and comfortable. The moon seemed to call out to him, and rouse him from slumber. Hisoka had never been a person to believe in fate or a higher power, but something stirred in his heart-- something would happen tonight. The trees were swaying softly near the river's edge, and he thought that it would be nice to soak his feet in the water and smell the crisp coming of dawn.

Then he saw the shadows, the flash of teeth—and the razor-edge of a knife. _  
_

_I'm sorry so sorry  
I'm sorry it's like this  
I'm sorry so sorry  
I'm sorry we do this_

And it's ironic too  
Coz what we tend to do  
Is act on what they say  
And then it is that way.

Hisoka was shocked. He couldn't believe what he'd just seen—a man, who seemed to reflect the purity of the moon and stars, in the guise of a doctor, had just killed a poor, defenseless woman. She hadn't done anything—she was so young, so beautiful. He wanted to cry and to be held by someone—but before he could even think to mourn, the terrifying doctor, with the animal bloodlust in his eyes, set his sights on Hisoka.

He tried to run, but even though the doctor was on the opposite shore, he ran through the water as if it was air. Hisoka could hardly will himself to struggle, out of fear, as Doctor Muraki held him tight against his body, and caressed Hisoka with the flat part of the knife.

"You're such a tasty morsel," Muraki said, his voice like the low grumble of a monster. "You won't have such a sudden and ugly death as she," Muraki said, carefully whispering in Hisoka's ear and forcing him to look at the corpse of the dead woman. "I'll make yours a pretty death."

"And we'll be together forever." Hisoka could hardly scream as Muraki started to cut into his back with the knife, and he saw his own blood splattered over his skin. As Muraki carefully stripped Hisoka and thrust hard from behind the youth, all Hisoka could do was scream out in his mind.

_And I'm sorry so sorry  
I'm sorry it's like this  
I'm sorry so sorry  
I'm sorry we do this_

Who are they?  
And where are they?  
And how can they possibly  
know all this?

Hisoka could still remember his slow death after the night Muraki had found him, taken advantage of him, and started to make him suffer. He had been in and out of hospitals for years, until he died just before turning seventeen years of age. Dying had been a relief for him—a chance to break ties with all of the suffering in his life, and a chance to become, as he discovered after his own passing, a Guardian of Death.

Hisoka had hoped against hope, however, that he could become a Guardian without a scandal over his death.

_Who are they?  
And where are they?  
And how can they possibly  
know all this?_

Do you see what I see?  
Why do we live like this?  
Is it because it's true  
that ignorance is bliss

Hisoka had been more than thankful to the powers that were that he could stand in Japan, smelling the fragrant cherry blossoms while on assignment, a skilled Shinigami that had worked hard to overcome his wretched gift. Apparently, it had been a result of the encounter with the doctor-- who he knew, by this time, was named Muraki-- that had cursed his young life. He could feel extreme emotions from people that he touched, and experience their most terrifying memories. But even worse . . .

The memories of that night of his death would continue to haunt him in his mind, even after he had passed.

Hisoka hated telling anyone about his curse, and had avoided discussing his history with his newest partner. It was too painful . . . but as he paused to think about his dark secret, he felt a gentle, warm hand.

It was Tsuzuki.

It meant something, which Hisoka found elusive-- until he jolted.

Tsuzuki knew.

And Hisoka took his hand.

_Who are they?  
And where are they?  
And how do they  
know all this?  
And I'm sorry so sorry  
I'm sorry it's like this_

Do you see what I see?  
Why do we live like this?  
Is it because it's true  
that ignorance is bliss


End file.
